Triangulated
by Mrs. Witter
Summary: It is a truth Rory Gilmore had long since acknowledged: when her life is going spectacularly well, something has to muck it up. LoganRoryTristan.
1. Part One

**Disclaimer:** Yes, I own them. There, I said it. Uh…sadly, I don't. They all belong to Amy Sherman Palladino and so on.  
**Part: **1?  
**Pairing:** Tristan/Rory/Logan  
**Rating:** Very strong R. You are forewarned.  
**Spoilers:** Everything up to the S4 finale then it is pretty much AU from there, with elements of S5 incorporated as I deem fit. Keep in mind, this is way back when so poetic license gives me the freedom to rewrite the Rory/Logan history if I want, so there.  
**Dedication:** To my Sus, as always. It's about time someone names a restaurant after her.  
**Author's Note**: A new one from me? Yeah, I've heard it all before. I was assured and reassured that this wouldn't get pulled for its content so I posted. Really, I don't know what this is going to end up as, pairing-wise. As of now, it's a triangle fic as the name suggests. So please, don't review saying that you'd prefer R/T over R/L or vice-versa. Oh and yes, I am alive and I plan on finishing most of my other fics.

**Part One**

'_Tis in my memory lock'd  
And only you shall keep the key of it._  
- Shakespeare

_Susan's_ was one of her favorite restaurants in New Haven, located close the off-campus apartment she shared with her boyfriend of almost two (tumultuous, on and off) years, the food was delectable and the coffee was as good as _Luke's_. Although she'd never tell him that. It had become another Gilmore staple; her mother had even given it a seal of approval. This particular spring afternoon, she sat indoors, near a window so she could observe passersby as she finished off her first cup. Periodically, she flipped through the latest issue of _Cosmopolitan_ that Stephanie had somehow managed to get her interested in, and waited for Logan Huntzburger to join her for lunch.

Their relationship was hardly what anyone would call smooth; they had "very high highs and very low lows" her mother had often pointed out, but it was one that worked for them and one that they both held on to, kept going back to for reasons Rory hadn't quite understood herself.

She figured one of them was love.

She glanced at the time on her cell phone lying next to her coffee cup and officially deemed Logan late. She'd let it slip this time, she decided with a small smile. After all, she had kept him waiting an entire hour last weekend when they had plans for dinner. She focused her attention back to a rather interesting article on sex tips and was in the process of lifting her cup to her mouth when a voice stopped her, cold.

"Hello Rory."

Instantly, her eyes widened from the shock of those two seemingly simple words as she registered the voice without having to look up. Instinctively, she gripped the table and wondered briefly (wishful thinking, really) if she was hearing things.

Finally, she lifted her gaze and looked upon him, those blue eyes gleaming with knowledge and amusement.

Floodgates. Memories poured through, a splendid montage of the past. She had read somewhere about sense memory and she hadn't quite experienced it before but now the sensations, wonderful and thrillingly reckless, pulsed with vivid clarity. Taste, touch, smell – each more intoxicating and heady, painful and harsh and all too real.

But she had no time to dwell on the images running through her mind in rapid succession; he was standing right there, a half smile on his face and his gaze fixed on her unwaveringly. She recovered quickly and managed a somewhat strained, "Tristan, hello."

Without waiting for an invitation, he took a seat right across from her and ordered a drink from the waiter who was hovering nearby. "It's been what, three years?"

"Yeah, I guess," she replied hesitantly. Taking her cues from his unaffected behavior, she decided that she too could remain civil and calm. She smiled a little, titled her head to the side. "How've you been?"

He thanked the waiter who came with his iced tea and answered her question, "Can't complain. I was visiting a friend here but I have to get back to Princeton soon. How's senior year at Yale?"

He was smiling warmly, eyes crinkling at the corners as he did and it was so natural that Rory found herself relaxing a bit. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and lifted a shoulder. "Same old. Busy, hectic…still liking it."

Old acquaintances, catching up, this she could do.

Tristan leaned back in his chair and studied her face with the same intensity he had long ago. She blushed and avoided his gaze. He chuckled, low and throaty, before commenting, "You look good, Gilmore."

"Thank you," she replied softly as the color spread over her face. "So do you."

"I always do," he stated and it was her turn to chuckle. Things with him never changed: he could make her feel oddly comfortable even as he could confuse her with one look. "So this is really interesting. A very 'of all the gin joints in all the world' moment, wouldn't you say?"

"Pretty much."

"Last time I saw you, you were walking away so fast I wasn't sure if I would ever see you again," he confessed, his expression unreadable but his eyes boring into hers and forcing her to stare back. "Are you still with Dean?"

She wanted to say it was none of his business, she had every right to, but three years ago she had pulled him into her drama and she found righteous indignation giving way to a truthful answer. "No, it didn't work out."

The slight nod of his head and silence were as glaring as a triumphant 'I told you so'. Needlessly, she found herself getting worked up while he hadn't even uttered a word. No one seemed to get to her as easily as Tristan did, it seemed.

He looked away, finally, and stared into his glass of iced tea. "That other guy…Jess?"

"He's in Philadelphia. We keep in touch but no, I'm not with him either," she answered wearily and anticipating his next question quickly added, "And yes, I do have a boyfriend."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "I didn't ask. _But_, I knew it."

Regardless of the rocky past they shared, she found herself smiling. "And you? A string of broken hearts in your wake, I assume?"

"Naturally. But that's not completely fair," he returned with a smile of his own, "My heart's been trampled over once or twice, too."

He looked right at her when he said it but she didn't have time to process it, as she spotted Logan rushing up to the table, looking apologetic. She smiled at him brightly and waved slightly, causing Tristan to look over his shoulder as the other blonde appeared.

"Ace, I'm sorry," Logan said as he came to stand beside her and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Honor called, she was ranting and cursing and it wasn't pretty."

Rory laughed, very much aware that Tristan was watching them. "It's okay. I was entertained."

Logan turned to her table companion as he sat down in the chair next to Rory and recognition immediately dawned in his eyes, "Tristan DuGrey?"

"Paper Boy," Tristan acknowledged as he held out his hand. "I thought I smelled a printing press. We missed you in Fiji this year."

Rory shook her head in surprise. "I take it you two know each other."

Logan put his arm around the back of Rory's chair and smiled, "High society at its best. DuGrey here is an honorary LDB member of sorts. He tapped into a few secrets. Much like you did, my dear. And you two know each other…"

"Chilton," Tristan quickly supplied. Logan nodded as Rory tried to gauge his reaction. It looked like she wouldn't have to go through another Jess debacle with this one since Logan seemed to be very unthreatened by the other boy. "I must be out of society-gossip loop if I didn't know you were dating Paper Boy over here, Gilmore. Surprising."

"Why? Because blonde rich boys aren't my type?" Rory asked, raising an eyebrow and her voice sounded slightly sardonic even to her own ears.

Both men grinned at this and Tristan answered, "Because pretty brunettes aren't Logan's."

"He doesn't have a type."

Logan laughed. "Amen. Let me tell you, I wouldn't believe it myself. But Ace can be pretty persuading when she has a bottle of champagne in her hands."

This time, Tristan looked straight at Rory, the intensity back in his gaze as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "You don't say."

If Logan had noticed the sudden undercurrent of tension, he didn't acknowledge it and simply opened the menu in front of him, gesturing towards the waiter as he did so. "I'm starved. Shall we order?"

Tristan pushed his chair away from the table. "I should go."

Rory was relieved. A part of her wanted him to stay – which shocked her, but a bigger part knew that if he did, trouble would follow and she wasn't ready for that just yet.

Unfortunately, her boyfriend had other plans. "No. Stay. Memory lane awaits us."

He looked at her, waiting for her approval and she nodded slowly, "Yes, please stay."

"If you insist."

Logan ordered for her out of habit and Tristan watched her over the top of his menu. Rory looked away, trying to concentrate on what her boyfriend was saying. But still, memories came back, unbidden.

- & -

"_Would you stop staring at me?" _

"_Because it makes you uncomfortable?"_

"_Because it is unbearably rude," she replied sharply, glancing over at him as they sat side by side on beach, legs stretched out in front of them. The moon hung low, making a silvery path on the rippled water below. There was a slight breeze that blew through her hair, causing it to fall over her eyes._

_Before she could reach up and pull it back, his fingers wrapped around a few wayward strands and pulled lightly, teasing, "I'm just enjoying the view."_

"_Then look straight ahead," she answered and turned her head away, trying not to shiver at his words or his closeness._

_They were miles away from home, from their pasts, and she was still getting used to the fact that despite the havoc he caused to her body she felt completely at ease with him nearby, as they vacationed in Europe together. It was fate, he had announced during their first chance encounter and it scared her that she was beginning to think he was right. _

"_Nah," he answered, shifting closer as he tucked her hair behind her ear and the traced the lobe with his thumb and forefinger. "Your ears are shaped very perfectly. They look nice." _

_Unaffected by the oddity of compliment, she responded. "Thank you."_

"_You're welcome," he answered huskily, his lips were now very close to her face. He bent his head and they grazed over the shell of her ear. When she didn't push him away, he continued to kiss a trail down the side of her face, her jaw line, and her neck and then up again to give attention to the sensitive skin behind her ear. "Tastes good too."_

"_Grandma's probably looking for us," she stated softly, eyes closed absorbing the sensations his ministrations were causing. Unaware, she moved closer to him, their bodies touching. Instinctively, her hand rested on his thigh, fingers lightly tracing patterns on his slacks. "We should get going." _

_One of his hands traveled up her ribcage to close firmly around her right breast, over the flimsy material of her dress. She half-sighed, half-moaned as his lips trailed across her cheek and the scent of his cologne mingled with the salty air and caused her mind to go heady with desire. "Mm, in a minute."_

_She turned her head and her lips caught his in a kiss, forgetting where they were. He pushed her back onto the sand, covered her body with his as their lips teased and tasted. The kiss escalated, her hands traced his broad back and shoulders while his ran up and down her sides. Mouths still fused, he took both her hands in his and lifted them above her head and she arched against him, legs parting as he settled more comfortably against her. The ache in her belly was long and liquid as he pulled away from her. She didn't protest when he let her hands go and he pulled the straps of her dress with it, exposing her lace-covered breasts to his hungry gaze. The gentle summer breeze shivered over her skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake. Tristan bent his head, his tongue burning a path of fire on her sensitive skin while his teeth grazed lightly over the lace. He reached up between their bodies and undid the clasp of her bra between her breasts with a quick skilled flick of his fingers. Eyes closed, her fingers threaded into his hair, she pulled him closer and gasped when his mouth closed over a hardened nipple._

_His mouth worked lovingly on her breasts as both hands traced her sides, over her stomach and then over her thighs, stopping when they reached the hem of her dress. Slowly he pulled the material up, his fingers tantalizingly grazing her outer thighs. Surely and confidently, he pushed the dress over her hips and let his hand cup her over the damp cotton material between her legs. The ache in her belly traveled lower, thick and needy and she sighed, murmuring a naughty request into the night. Emboldened and fervent, his knuckles brushed roughly over her clit, her hips bucked against his hand and her own tangled in his hair. Her breathing was labored and clogged in her lungs. She was drowning in the pleasure of his touch, of his mouth now fastened on her neck, on her pulse that was pounding away like a runaway train. Moaning his name softly, she trailed her fingers in the sand beside her as he pulled her panties away._

_His lips trailed up again and he loomed over her, eyes dark and lustful. She stared back at him, unabashed, lips parted as his thumb and forefinger alternated between pinching and rubbing against her most sensitive nub. His free hand came up to cup her breast, his thumb grazing harshly over her nipple and watched, as she trashed under him, wantonly. _

"Fuck_," she moaned as his fingers slipped inside her folds, tormenting her by bringing her so close to the edge. The heat inside her was building at a furious pace but bastard that he was he deliberately kept her release at bay. "Fuck Tristan."_

_He laughed huskily, "I said, in a minute."_

_Her eyes flew open and she glared at him, bucking her hips against his hands and biting her lower lip in frustration. "_Now_."_

_He caught her lower lip between his teeth and murmured against her lips. "Not without me, Gilmore."_

_Blindly, she reached for his belt. Unthinking, she helped him out of his clothes in a wild, frenzied attempt to feel him under her fingertips, to trace his muscles with her palms. They worked to get into a comfortable position; her legs wrapped around his waist, ankles locked together behind him her dress around her torso, his shirt hanging off his arms. He leaned down to kiss her again as he thrust into her, one quick motion that had her gasping against his mouth, clinging to him as the edge of her vision was blurred almost to black. She let him set the pace, fast and a little rough, riding him as the first waves of pleasure crested over her. _

_She didn't think of Dean or of Dean and Lindsay or of the look of utter disappointment on her mother's face that was etched in her mind's eye since she had left home. She didn't think of Stars Hollow or Yale. She forgot she was in Europe, about her grandmother and the fact that they were on a public beach._

_She only thought of him. Felt only his hands and lips on hers and the tiny grains of sand against her skin. She breathed in the scent of him and the salty ocean air. Lost in feelings and the needs of her body, driven by the desire to forget, she cradled her face in the crook of his neck, smiling triumphantly when he called out her name as he came. _

_When he collapsed on top of her and her vision and breathing returned to almost normal, she didn't feel embarrassed or ashamed. She clobbered the voice that would surely signal alarms and fears in her system. Instead, she laughed indulgently and pulled Tristan's head up for a kiss._

_When he broke away and smirked down at her she merely tightened her grip on his bare shoulders and grinned, "Let's do that again."_

- & -

"..And Ace here just jumped, like that," Logan regaled Tristan with the story of Rory's first LDB event. "It was awesome. And very surprising, didn't know she had it in her."

Tristan smiled in admiration, glancing at Rory who was rolling her eyes. "Good going there, Gilmore. I'm going to have to see the pictures to believe it."

Rory smiled, remembering to remain friendly, "I'll send you the pictures."

He looked at her, his expression unreadable and she wished that he wouldn't be so obvious. Logan may have missed it at first but she knew he had keen, well-honed radar when it came to detecting other guys who were interested in her. And even if Logan had been preoccupied with catching up with Tristan, the furtive glances between them and nervousness Rory could feel she was exuding were enough to raise the suspicions of any trusting boyfriend.

Rory didn't know if she should be relieved that Logan was obviously not threatened or scared that she felt like there was _something_ between her and Tristan that warranted alarm bells in her boyfriend's mind.

Her guilt-ridden thoughts were interrupted by Logan's cell phone and he looked at caller ID and rolled his eyes. "It's Honor again. Surely tragedy has struck. Excuse me guys, I'm going to take this outside: it could get ugly."

Once he was gone, Tristan lifted the cup of coffee in front of him to his lips and watched her over the rim. His eyes always studied her with part amusement, part intrigue and it was a mixture that always made her uncomfortable. Like he always knew what she was thinking before she even opened her mouth.

Self-consciously, Rory tucked her hair behind her ear. "What?"

He grinned and lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. "Nothing."

"Don't do that," she snapped irritably. "If you want to say something, say it. You know I despise guessing what you're working up in that warped brain of yours."

He chuckled and took another sip of coffee. "I knew the civility couldn't last too long."

A corner of her mouth curled. "We've never been civil, Tristan."

He put the cup back on the table and pinned her with an intense gaze. "No, never civil. That is for certain. At least that's how I like to remember it."

"Tristan," she said softly, looking down at the tablecloth. "That was a long time ago."

"And yet I remember it with perfect clarity," he replied nonchalantly. "And from the way you keep looking at me and then looking at Logan so guiltily, I'm pretty sure you remember it like it was yesterday too."

She leaned forward, eyes flashing with warning. "Tristan, this isn't the time or place to be discussing this. Logan will be back any minute."

"Alright," he replied, his jaw set determinedly. "Tonight. Meet me for dinner."

"What?" she asked incredulously. "No, Tristan, I can't go out on date with you! I have a boyfriend. What is wrong with you?"

He smirked and raised an eyebrow. "It's only a date if you want it to be, Gilmore. _Adriana's_, Downtown. Seven o'clock. We'll _talk_ then."

Fuming at his arrogance, she glared at him as he stood up and took out his wallet. "You're so sure I'm going to show up, aren't you? You haven't changed at all, Tristan DuGrey."

"And neither have you," he returned and came around the table to stand next to her chair. He leaned down and brought his face closer to hers. "So I suppose we're right where we started off, don't you?"

" Logan," she reminded him, knowing it was useless. She looked over his shoulder to see if her boyfriend had returned. "You're his friend."

"I am," he agreed with a slight nod of his head. "And this would be much easier if I wasn't."

She shook her head and shifted in her seat, trying to keep her distance. "That's so you. Making everything more complicated than it has to be."

He merely grinned at that and moved in closer. His hand came up to take hers, and lifted it to his lips brushing them lightly over her knuckles. "It really was good seeing you again, Rory. I'll be waiting. Tell Huntzburger the lunch was on me."

Before she could say anything, he was gone. Taking a deep breath, she stared at the table in front of her and tried not to think about just how complicated her life would become if Tristan stepped – more like pushed himself – back into the picture. It had taken her awhile to get to this place and upset was the last thing she needed. She looked at the seat Tristan had vacated and thought of how easily her memory betrayed her and drudged up their past.

She thought of the feel of his lips on her knuckles.

Logan Huntzburger may have been the first person to make her jump off a tower in an evening gown but he wasn't the first to make her feel alive.

_To be continued… _


	2. Part Two

**Disclaimer:** Yes, I own them. There, I said it. Uh…sadly, I don't. They all belong to Amy Sherman Palladino and so on.

**Part: **1/?

**Pairing:** Tristan/Rory/Logan

**Rating:** Very strong R. You are forewarned.

**Spoilers:** Everything up to the S4 finale then it is pretty much AU from there, with elements of S5 incorporated as I deem fit. Keep in mind, this is way back when so poetic license gives me the freedom to rewrite the Rory/Logan history if I want, so there.

**Author's Note**: Okay, so here's another update. I know they're slow and at length but like I've said before I am far busier and less inclined to write. My muse is quite upset with me at the moment. This is largely un-beta-ed because my regular betas seem to be MIA and I will post the edited proper version once they get back to me. So bear with me. XOXO

**Part Two**

_There's just too much that time cannot erase_.

- "My Immortal", Evanescence

She had told herself she wouldn't think about him or his ridiculous, presumptuous invitation. Rory was not going to dwell or obsess about him and let him ruin the rest of her day or the quiet evening she was planning with Logan at home.

In fact, she wasn't going to spare Tristan DuGrey and his arrogance another thought.

"Tristan asked me to meet him for dinner," she blurted as soon as she got home later that day. Logan turned from his place near the window and simply raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "Not as a date. I think. I mean, he knows I'm with you and even he's not that arrogant to believe that he can just ask someone out on a date when that someone is already with someone else. Although I am pretty sure-"

"Rory," Logan stated quite calmly for a person whose girlfriend just got asked out by another guy.

She went to him, took both of his hands in hers and looked at him imploringly. "I don't have to go. I _wasn't_ going to go."

He touched the side of her face, gently. "Do you _want_ to go?"

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, torn. It was useless to lie to Logan, she never really had before and she wasn't going to start right then. Not over someone like Tristan DuGrey. "Yes."

"Then go." He said it so simply, she wondered if he wasn't even a little bit threatened. Her eyes widened slightly and he grinned. "You thought I was going to break something, preferably his neck, in a jealous rage, didn't you?"

"That would be a normal reaction, yes." She kept staring at him strangely, as if the last two years had been erased and she was staring at the face of a stranger. Oh good God, Tristan DuGrey hadn't stepped back in her life for a day and he was already changing everything. Fucking bastard. "You're completely okay with me going for dinner with another guy?"

"As long as you're coming back home to me after a normal, friendly dinner with an old acquaintance, I'm fine, Ace." He kissed her forehead and then wrinkled his own. "You are coming back home to me, right?"

Rory let out a sigh of relief that ended on a chuckle. "Of course."

"Then I don't see the problem."

She brushed her lips against his and wrapped her arms around him, pushing back the guilt she felt for not revealing that Tristan wasn't just an old acquaintance. "Don't look now, Huntzburger but I think you're growing up."

"So you say," he replied with a chuckle. "So you say."

- & -

_Calm_, she told herself as she was led to the table Tristan had booked at _Adrianna's_ by the waiter. _Remain calm at all times – no matter what he does to provoke you_. She patted her hair down despite herself and glanced down at her dress for the hundredth time wondering why she decided to wear something that showed, in her opinion, so much skin.

She caught Tristan's eyes as he watched her approach and saw the slow smile spread across his face. Half of her reveled in the way his eyes darkened knowingly; he knew why she chose to wear white, knew exactly what she was thinking as the silky material slipped over her. It was to remind him that it was her innocence that attracted him.

And it was her innocence he was hell bent on destroying.

"You look breathtaking, Gilmore," he said simply as he rose.

She was ready for some lewd remark so it threw her off, the straightforwardness of his compliment. She blushed and avoided his gaze. "Thank you."

Once they sat down and she placed her drink order, she met Tristan's gaze and kept staring. He smirked and then shook his head. "I didn't think you'd show."

In spite of her anger, she smiled. "Oh I beg to differ - you knew I'd come."

"I knew you'd obsess about whether or not to show," he returned easily. "Probably made a pro/con list. And then threw it away and met me anyway."

She had thought of making a list but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. "God, I can't believe how little you've changed."

Tristan took that jibe in stride. "Gilmore, you like me exactly the way I am."

Because it was true, she didn't say anything and made a show of perusing her menu. "So what's good here?"

Without taking his eyes off of her, Tristan immediately said, "I'm actually looking forward to dessert." Her eyes flashed warningly and he chuckled. "Relax, Mary, I'm serious, the cannoli here is to die for."

Placated, Rory frowned. "I hate when you call me, Mary, Tristan."

"Right," he said with a wry smile and the pinned her with an intense gaze she couldn't fathom. "It's _Ace_, nowadays, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is." She didn't miss the brief flicker of… _something _that crossed his face at the admission.

"Well does Logan know about your past a Mary?" he said in a way that implied her past was anything but innocent.

"Logan knows most parts," she answered after a beat. She could never lie to him and it unnerved her completely. "He knows about what happened with Dean."

"But he doesn't know about me."

Avoiding his gaze again, she looked at the menu. "He thinks you're an old acquaintance from high school."

"Well, I am an old acquiantance from high school," he agreed with her, somewhat dryly. "That's half of the truth, anyway."

The guilt rose up again and she glared at him. Leave it to Tristan DuGrey to know exactly which buttons to push.

In a way Logan never did, even with all his flaws.

It was true that her initial relationship with Logan had started out quite the same way it had with Tristan – with strong dislike (from her part, at least). But the antagonism had died quite quickly and she had admitted quite readily that she was attracted to him. Rory had been the one that had wanted more than Logan was ready to give from the very start.

With Tristan, it was quite the opposite. He was the one that pushed, when she was desperately trying to fight her own, undeniable, intense attraction to him. She had never been ready for him even when she was, despite her better sense, deep into something with him three summers ago.

Rory was never ready for Tristan DuGrey, it seemed.

- & -

"_What are you doing?" she asked him, her eyes wide, lips trembling, as he brought his hand to rest on the wall above her shoulder. "Tristan?"_

"_Relax Mary," he whispered softly, bending his head so that he could be heard over the roar of nightclub music. "Jesus, you look like a virgin on the verge of sacrifice." _

"_Very funny, DuGrey," she managed to get out as she tried to relax. She had been nervous with Dean, when he had come to her house that fateful night, and the knowledge about what they were going to do flowed through her. _

_But with Tristan, eyes gleaming with mischief and seduction, she was terrified._

_His lips brushed the shell of her ear and the knuckles of her hand, which was holding a plastic cup of alcohol between their bodies, grazed against his shirt. She repressed the shudder that ran through her and adopted a nonchalant expression as she gazed over his shoulders at the European night scene displayed before her._

"_I didn't think you'd come," he told her as his lips continued down her neck._

"_You knew I would," she answered automatically. She watched a near naked woman, with bright blue hair and body glitter, dance around in a cage and wondered why she did. "I told you I would."_

"_This isn't your scene, Mary," he said as his other hand rested on her hip and slowly kneaded the satin of her dress._

"_It isn't yours, either," she answered turning her face towards him. With their lips inches apart, his warm alcohol laced breath mingling with hers, she raised an eyebrow. "And I hate it when you call me Mary."_

"_If the shoe fits…"_

_Her hand which lied limply to the side, suddenly reached up and tugged at his hair. Challengingly, teasingly, she licked her lips. "It doesn't."_

_Instead of grinning and taking her up on her invitation to kiss her, Tristan pulled back, surprise apparent in his eyes. Regaining his voice and composure, he asked, oddly, "When?"_

"_A couple of weeks ago," she replied. Apparently, alcohol loosened her tongue. And made her mean. She grinned a little. "To Dean."_

_Tristan pushed away from her completely and she had to struggle not to frown. This was a game and she wasn't going to lose her nerve because he looked so disappointed. No…disapproving. "And now?"_

_She wanted to cry but instead took another sip of her drink. The masochist in her replied, "He's married."_

_It took a minute for Tristan to process what she was saying. He shook his head, ever so slightly and repeated, "And now?"_

_She shrugged. "Now I have to find someone else to help me explore my sexuality."_

_He studied her for a minute and then took her hand. "Wanna get out of here?"_

_Smiling victoriously, she nodded. "Thought you'd never ask."_

- & -

"Logan doesn't need to know about us," she finally answered after the waiter brought the food. She reached for a roll of bread and gave him a pointed look. "There's not a lot to tell, anyway."

He chuckled at that and it made her angry that he wasn't the least bit offended. But his eyes did darken when he finally spoke, "That doesn't work with me, Gilmore. You know that. I was there, too."

Desperately, she leaned forward. "Tristan, we decided to walk away."

Now he looked pissed. "Oh you sure have a way or rewriting history, Rory. You decided to walk – no, run, away. Back to your safe haven, back to the arms of the very guy you were trying to forget."

"I had a life there." She curled her fingers together; her knuckles turned white. "You had a whole other life. Were we really going to change all of that?"

His mouth set in a grim line but a muscle near his jaw twitched. "That's not the point."

"Then what is?" she asked as cut into her steak. "What's the point of this entire evening?"

"Just like you must've told Logan," Tristan answered easily. "Two old acquaintances catching up."

"You know that we'll never be able to be just two old acquaintances, Tristan," she said and winced. She wasn't making much sense.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fucking hell, Gilmore. Seriously, how do you make everything right in your mind? How does one piece fit into the next of this life you created for yourself and still leave room for that brain of yours? It's all haywire."

"Don't mock me, Tristan."

"Don't confuse me, Rory." He put his fork down and reached for her hand. "Let me get this straight. We can never be old acquaintances but what happened between us was nothing life-altering. Logan knows all about your sordid affair with Dean and yet you can't tell him about what happened between us in Europe?"

"Yes, exactly," she answered even though she knew it sounded ridiculous. Reverting back to an old tactic, she squeezed her hand and implored, "Tristan, please…"

He sighed and nodded. "Okay, we'll have a nice, normal dinner. Because no matter what you'd like to believe, we were friends at some point, Ror."

A grin tugged the corner of her lips, almost naughtily, "No, we weren't."

"You don't think so?"

"Tristan," she said as she leaned in a bit, "Friends don't want to strangle each other constantly."

"So then what were or are we?" he challenged taking a sip of wine.

She looked away before catching his gaze again and shrugged lightly. "I don't know…I could never put you into any category, DuGrey. You never seemed to fit anywhere in my life."

He put his wineglass on the table and pinned her with a look. "That's a very dangerous thing to say, Rory."

Her brows furrowed. "Dangerous? How?"

"Because now you've made me hell bent on reminding you where exactly it was that," he stopped and glanced downwards before smiling wolfishly and finishing, "I fit."

- & -

"_God, this is so clichéd," Rory exclaimed as she trudged up the stairs of the quaint, British B&B that had checked into for the night. "Of course, there's only one room. That is what would make this road trip complete."_

_Tristan, who was in front of her, carrying their luggage, smiled. "Buck up, Gilmore. I promise to be a perfect gentleman."_

_Rory snorted in response. Ever since they had embarked on their impromptu road trip to the north of London, Tristan had been anything but a gentleman. He had made lewd comments, touched her everywhere, kissed her in front of the cashier at the roadside Marks & Spencer and even copped a feel when he helped her onto the horse they rode earlier along the Devon coast. _

_And then he had almost fucked her against the rental car, as the sun sunk into the horizon._

_She had tried everything to discourage him. Really, she had. She had pushed away almost immediately. Well…not almost, but as soon as reality hit._

"_You're incapable of that, DuGrey."_

_He only raised an eyebrow and opened the door to their room. Gallantly, he stepped aside and let her in before following with the luggage. They stood at the entrance and stared at their lodgings. It reminded Rory of the room she and Lorelai had stayed in on their own impromptu Harvard road trip._

_She looked at Tristan who shrugged. "The bed looks big enough for the both of us."_

_She rolled her eyes and gave him a syrupy smile. "Well that's good for me. You're sleeping on the ground, buster."_

"_Hey," he replied offended. "Have you met me? I'm a spoiled, rich brat. I don't sleep on floors. It's bad for my back."_

"_You went to military school, Tristan."_

"_Yes," he said dropping their bags on the ground and walking over to the bed. "That's just another reason why I refuse to sleep on anything other than feathers for the rest of my life."_

"_Fine, I'll sleep on the ground. So much for being a gentleman."_

_He grabbed her arm and tugged her forward. "Now, don't be a prude, Mary."_

"_DuGrey," she warned as his arms wrapped around her waist. "You promised."_

_He smirked. "I lied."_

"_I should have known," she muttered as his lips descended on hers. She kissed him, letting her hands tangle in his hair. For a few blissful moments, she lost herself in him, allowing his hands to roam freely up her back, into her hair; his lips to caress hers, her jaw line, her face like he was about to devour her whole before she stepped away, keeping him at bay with one hand against his chest. "I can't."_

_Tristan looked at her, anger flashing briefly in his eyes before he nodded and raised both his hands in a universal sign of surrender. "Okay, Ror. I'm backing off." _

"_Thank you," she said quietly, not meeting his gaze._

"_For now," he answered and then turned around and began rummaging through his things._

_Knowing that the conversation was over and she couldn't add anything else to it without angering him; she turned and fled into the bathroom, taking her bag with her. Once inside, she sat down on the toilet and tried to calm down. Tristan always made her insides go haywire and it took a couple of minutes to come down from the heady daze her hormones put her in whenever he kissed her._

_After showering and changing into what she believed were her frumpiest PJs, Rory left the bathroom to find Tristan on the bed, naked from waist up, playing with his PSP. Determined to make the best of a bad situation, Rory smiled brightly as she dumped her duffel bag on a chair nearby and walked to the bed._

"_Bathroom's free."_

_He looked up at her and put away his game. "You look hot."_

_She rolled her eyes and sat down at the foot of the bed. "You're incorrigible."_

_He sidled up behind her and played with the tips of her wet hair. "You could have told me you were showering - I would have joined you."_

_She shivered deliciously at the image of them in the shower, slicked with water and soap, entangled together. "Tristan, this is not backing off."_

"_I realized that I don't know how to," he answered softly, kissing the nape of her neck, "and that I don't want to and that you don't really want me to either. Deep down inside, you know you just want to give in and let me help you forget all about Dean and every other guy who's ever touched you."_

_It was tempting; she knew that he probably would make her forget – forget and enjoy every minute of it. She turned her face to his, brushed her nose against his and sighed. "I want to, Tristan. I want to forget what I did."_

_He smiled and softly kissed her. "Then let me help."_

"_Sex with you will be like alcohol, Tristan," she explained in between his kisses. "I'll forget for tonight and then everything will be just the way it is come morning. Only I will have slept with you and then we can never go back."_

_He seemed only to be half hearing her as his hand slipped under the first button of her PJs and popped it open. "I never liked where we were in the first place. Plus, you're over-thinking this."_

"_Tristan," she started to say but he covered her mouth with his._

_His arms came around her waist and pulled her on top of him as he lay back on the bed. Helplessly lost in his kiss, she let him take control, adjusting her body to fit perfectly against the hard contours of his. His hand trailed down her back and one fisted in her hair and she didn't know it but her own hands ran down his sides and up over his bare stomach._

_He rolled them over and her breath came out in a half-whisper, half-moan, "Tristan."_

_He lifted himself on his elbows and undid the remaining buttons of PJs, tearing the fabric away so his eyes could feast on her, heaving, bare breasts. "God, Rory, so damn hot."_

_She felt her cheeks burn, she wasn't used to anyone seeing her naked and ridiculously she thought that now Dean had and Tristan had and they would always remember. Like that episode of "Friends" where Ross says he could picture Rachel naked whenever he wanted to after they had broken up._

_She giggled slightly and Tristan lifted his head from her breast and looked at her curiously. Chastised, she struggled to make her face serious. "Sorry, I got distracted."_

"_Then I must be losing my touch."_

_Her hands roamed down his back and she looked him in the eyes and smiled. "Not at all. I guess I'm just nervous."_

"_Understandable."_

_Feeling her confidence grow, she nodded. "You may continue."_

_Laughing he lowered his head and kissed her hard. In a few moments, he had her out of her PJs and she successfully rid him of his pants without giggling nervously. His hands, mouth and tongue touched her everywhere, making her crazy. Slowly, she felt all inhibition leave her as she touched him back, boldly caressed his skin, nipped his shoulder and neck with her teeth and then slid her hand between their bodies and fisted his cock, slowly and languorously, causing him to moan her name with a few choice expletives thrown in. _

_With Dean, she had been shy and had let him lead, following when he made love to her. She had barely understood what her body was doing and basically restricted her exploration of the male anatomy to above the waist. She had blushed furiously when she felt his rigid length along her thigh and had closed her eyes when he was poised at her entrance, asking sweetly, if she was sure. _

_With Tristan it was an entirely different experience, she was an equally active participant, matching him need for need, kiss for kiss. Her hands were everywhere, her tongue licked and tasted skin, curved along the contours of his body, and she even managed to roll them over so that she was on top, his cock slipping against her slick mound._

_Then without any sweet assurances or even any warning, Tristan grabbed her hips and thrust upwards, into her warm, welcoming heat._

_It was fast and crazy and over way too soon but the entire time, Rory kept her eyes open and on his and they climaxed almost together, before she fell against him, her head resting on his chest, his length nestled deeply, perfectly, inside her._

- & -

Cheeks hot, Rory shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Tristan, it was a long time ago."

"Then why are you blushing?"

"Because we're in a public place. And I have a boyfriend and this is totally inappropriate."

"This is getting old, Rory," he answered, a little frustrated.

"You think?"

He pursed his lips and shook his head before finishing off what was left of his wine. "You'll never change, will you? Running. Avoiding. Always."

"I am not avoiding and running from anything," she protested, her fork clattering on her plate loudly. "Damn it, Tristan, I'm in a loving, committed relationship. Logan and I are honest with each other."

"But he doesn't know that after you fucked Dean, you fucked me before you returned to your little perfect world to fuck Dean again before you fucked him, right?" Tristan whispered crudely, his eyes flashing angrily.

Shocked, hurt and angry, Rory stood up and glared at him. "I knew coming here was a mistake, but I did. For old times' sake, I suppose. Stupid."

Sighing, Tristan reached for her hand but she pulled away. "Ror -"

"I'm leaving, Tristan," she stated airily. "Have a nice life."

He stood up too, tried to grab her hand again, but she had already turned her heel and was walking away. He watched as she weaved through the tables in the restaurant and then looked down at their unfinished dinner and mumbled, "Fuck."

_To Be Continued…_

**Announcement**: Snippets of my fics – updated and whatnot, and a general personal archive for me are up at: http://mrswitter-fic.


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